Five Things
by sanspeur
Summary: Five Times Macey McHenry Never Said Goodbye.


Five Things

Author: raineorshine

Disclaimer: I do not own, in any way, shape, or form, own anything you recognize. That would be Ally Carter.

Summary: Five Times Macey McHenry Never Said Goodbye

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><p>V. Her childhood<p>

The Senator was for the people.

The people loved Cynthia McHenry.

And between the two of them, Macey McHenry knew when it was time to grow up.

She knew when her father stopped toting her around as a prop to campaign rallies and when her mother taught her how to "strike a pose," not "say cheese."

You're not holding on to an American Girl doll when you smile for the camera. But Macey already knew that, her own doll tucked away in one of her houses' neglected toy boxes.

When you're seen in America's top tabloids, it could be considered a faux pas to have childishly gaudy Lip Smackers smeared across your mouth. But Macey already knew that; she's sat in front of a makeup artist for years.

When your parents don't come back before you're fed and bathed before bed, it would be irresponsible to sit and wait up for them. But Macey already knew that; she's never had anyone tuck her into bed before.

And that's how Macey McHenry, woman not girl and model not daughter, catwalks through childhood like her parents have taught her without so much as a blink.

IV. Her best friend

They'd been best friends ever since they'd both realized they were laughing at the same boy who'd drooled on his pillow during naptime. In kindergarten.

Macey and Hannah. Hannah and Macey. Some people swore that they hung out together so much that if you looked really closely, they'd look alike in all the small places.

The two girls held fast with late night phone calls, sleepovers at a moment's notice, and girls' nights out on the town.

Until high school, that is. Until Matt, Hannah's ex-boyfriend wanted to start seeing Macey.

Hannah laughed out loud when he asked Macey for her cell phone number, recalling the multiple times she'd caught him cheating, but Macey must not have overheard, because she gave him her digits with a wink.

"You're reading way too much into this, Hannah!" she'd laughingly assure later, while secretly texting the troublemaker under the table.

"Maybe you're right," came her friend's petulant retort. "But I want you out of my house if you're going to choose him over me!"

Even Macey couldn't conceal her alarm. "He's just a boy!"

Hannah crossed her arms, steeling herself to push her best friend away. "Once a cheater, always a cheater. Remember those words, Mace? Those were the words that finally pushed me to break up with him. Your words. And now you say he's just a boy?"

The final words she musters up are spoken to Hannah's locked door, "maybe he's changed."

But even Macey's not convinced of her words, feeling entirely too preoccupied trying to persuade herself that high school was where you found your true friends. Not kindergarten.

She doesn't call anyone to bring her home. Instead, she walks home, swearing to never again experience the bitter taste of bile on her tongue.

III. Her boyfriend

Seven months. That's how long Macey was happy with Matt.

Until she wasn't.

She cut back on her eating to see if he'd notice.

He didn't.

She took her first cigarette in the school parking lot to see if he'd care enough to stop her.

He didn't.

She snuck a glance at his cell phone's inbox and saw that he'd saved less than half of her messages in favor of some slut named Annabelle.

He didn't even deny it when she told him she knew. He didn't even try to beg for her.

Once and for all, she decided: men are pigs (she didn't know if she was including The Senator in that or not.). After that, she swears she'll go vegetarian for the rest of her life.

And she was positive he didn't even bat an eye when she marched out of his dorm room with the shredded remains of her dignity.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater," echoes miserably in her mind, first as her own words, and then as the words of her ex-best friend.

She couldn't forget either the bile as it pooled in her mouth or the pained twisting of her stomach.

She was too ashamed to tell her (ex-best) friend that she was right and had been right all along.

II. Her parents

She was Macey McHenry, daughter of Senator McHenry and makeup designer Cynthia McHenry.

Not that that fact made any difference to various school principals who'd kicked her out (*ahem* expelled) from each of their respectable campus grounds, even though it earned them a very earnest threat of suing from Senator McHenry himself.

Until the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. No more eating like a bird, no more boys, not more cell phones, no more cigarettes. Probably no more caffeine. How could they expect her to live without her Diet Coke?

Obviously not at all. Nobody notices when she rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

Because of course the Senator wasn't listening to her _at all_, because his _dear, lovely wife_ was complaining of a splitting headache, saying that she _needed_ to get back to the city. Immediately.

And that's how they left her, Macey McHenry, their daughter, at the doorstep of Gallagher Academy without so much as a goodbye (not that she'd been expecting it).

And that's when she decided that they didn't need her goodbyes anymore either.

Trying to ignore the trembling in her hand, Macey McHenry turned the doorknob to open her uncertain, unwanted future.

I. Her happiness

She'd meant it when she proclaimed that she was "immune to boys."

Or, at least, she thought she did.

So when the son of her father's campaign partner asks her if she was, you know, interested in maybe…taking a walk in the park? She stares at the Spiderman watch he's sporting (that her mother would definitely _not_ "fancy") as if he was all of those simplicities she'd missed growing up.

Maybe, just maybe, he was worth a try. Her lips drift upwards, "okay."


End file.
